Meant To Fall
by Team Damon
Summary: Long before winter, before the war, and before HYDRA, there was a girl named Vivian. He loved her and she loved him, but for some reason, it was never quite enough. One day, very far in the future, he would understand why. Tie in oneshot to Life After Death, Bucky/OC


**A/N: In light of this week's chapter of _Life_ _After Death_ where Bucky has officially decided to ask Summer to marry him (weeeeeee! :D), inspiration struck to write a short oneshot illustrating the contrasts between his relationship with Summer and that of the woman he was serious with in the 40s, another OC lol, Vivian. And after nearly a week spent angsting over what to title the darn thing, I am finally getting to post it lol. A bit different from my typical tie-in oneshot to LAD, but I really enjoyed writing this and hope you'll all enjoy reading it, too. I like Vivian and wanted to do justice the relationship I imagined them having, while also illustrating the differences between the past and present, and thus this was born lol. Let me know what you all think! And a big BIG thanks to midnightwings96 for her always-amazing encouragement and for helping me during my titling angst :D**

"Go ahead, Steve," Bucky sighed, leaning back into his seat, looking down into the bottom of his almost-empty glass. "Laugh at me. I know you're dying to."

Steve shook his head, but there was a knowing smile on his face as he shrugged, "I'm not gonna laugh at you. But I might if you keep sitting there sulking."

"I'm not..." The protest died on his lips and, rather than argue, Bucky downed the last of the whiskey and muttered, "Fine, I'm sulking."

Steve nodded. "We've been here almost two hours, and you danced for five minutes with one girl. What excuse did you use to get away from her?"

Bucky sighed again. "Said my feet hurt."

Steve burst out with quiet laughter, and Bucky glared at him before he held his hands up in surrender and said, "Look, if you want to go, just go. I'll head home. You should go get her."

"Go get her?" Bucky repeated, raising his eyebrows a little. "She doesn't want to see me. No point in trying."

"Yeah, except that's what you always say. Then you go see her, and it turns out she _does_ want to see you."

Bucky picked up his glass, then remembered it was frustratingly empty and put it back down before muttering, "Yeah, well, it never works out, does it?"

He had come here tonight to think about anything but _her_ , yet naturally, Steve knew him all too well and knew that she was all he could think about. Normally he could dance the night away, flirt up a storm with whoever caught his eye and distract himself from whatever else was going on in his life, but on this particular night, he just couldn't.

She was across town, celebrating closing night of the show that she'd landed the lead of awhile back. He had been there while she had auditioned, got the part, and the first couple shows, too. Then their usual cycle of coming together and falling apart had struck again, and now nearly two months later, it was taking all of his will to stay away like he knew he probably should.

He just _missed_ her. And Steve knew that all too well, knowing Bucky better than he knew himself.

"You know, Steve," Bucky said, "you're _supposed_ to tell me that she's no good for me and to just forget about her."

"Oh," Steve replied. "Sorry I'm not sticking to the usual best-friend script."

He tried not to groan, the word _script_ just making him think of her all the more. "Yeah, I mean, if I were you, I'd be sick of watching the whole train wreck happen over and over... and over."

"Train wreck might be a bit strong of a term..."

Bucky shook his head. "No, that's exactly what it is. I mean, _why_ does this keep happening, Steve? Why can't it ever... just... stick?"

Steve looked down thoughtfully, looking a bit sad as he shrugged his small shoulders before looking back up at him. "Don't know."

Looking off sightlessly towards the crowd of dancers on the other side of the hall, Bucky said, "You always tell me to go after her but every time I've tried to _make_ it stick, you say I shouldn't."

"Because _that_ ," Steve said quietly, "I don't know. I don't think you should try to make something permanent if you constantly doubt it."

"But is that just because I'm an idiot?" Bucky asked a little desperately. "I mean, what if I'm screwing up my whole life 'cause I'm too chicken to spit the words out?"

Steve was quiet for a moment, unsure of how to respond until he said, "Look, you're the type that when you know something, you know it. Doubt's usually not your thing. So that's part of why I think maybe... you've done the right thing not proposing." He paused. "But at the same time, you love her, and if you keep sitting here tonight talking to me instead of seeing her, you're probably only gonna make yourself more miserable."

Bucky groaned and rubbed his fingers over his eyes. "Think maybe, one of these days, you could stop being right all the time?"

"Soon as you stop being wrong all the time," Steve teased back, making Bucky mock offense before grinning and reaching across the table to nudge his friend playfully.

Only problem was, Steve really _was_ right. And there was never any other way the night was going to end than the way that Steve had suggested.

He walked Steve home to his own apartment, and with one last word of encouragement from him, Bucky then headed across town, which was where he had wanted to be all night.

It was easy to find her. He had figured she and her castmates would have gone to the place across the street from the theater to celebrate, and it took him all of two minutes upon entering the loud, energetic establishment to spot her among all the happily dancing men and women.

She was dancing with the male lead of the play, smiling and laughing near the center of the crowd as he danced her around and flipped her backwards, making her laugh more.

Bucky had no right to be jealous, and probably no reason to be either. Back when she had gotten the part and was rehearsing with the man on a nearly daily basis, she had assured Bucky that the last thing the guy would be interested in was her, though she never explained why, and Bucky had _seen_ the chemistry they'd had on stage.

Still, she wasn't with him anymore, so what right did he have to want to physically grab the guy and pull him off of her? What right did he have to be here at all?

It was Steve's stubborn voice in his head that kept him from turning and leaving, and that extra moment of lingering was when the crowd broke just right and her gaze happened to move his way. Her green eyes met his blue ones, and the exuberant smile on her pretty face slowly faded into an expression of sheer surprise as she stopped moving mid-dance.

It hurt just looking at her, but it was the kind of pain that felt just as good as it hurt. He smiled at her, a quiet closed-mouth smile that she answered with a much wider red-lipped grin of her own. She then turned to her leading man and he watched her say something in his ear, and then the man looked his way, grinned, and turned back to her, nodding and giving her a hug before she started heading Bucky's way.

Steve had been right after all. She _did_ want to see him.

Still in shock from the way that she had smiled when she recognized him, he met her halfway after she escaped the crowd and felt his smile grow as she half-exclaimed, "Bucky! What are you doing here?"

"I... just wanted to see you," he said, closing his eyes when she unexpectedly came in for a hug. His arms wrapped around her and her scent flooded his senses, the same as it always was, and she was still grinning when she pulled away and looked at him. "I wanted to come and see your last show, but..."

"It's okay," she assured him, her hands going to his face and then pulling away as soon as she seemed to think better of it. She tucked the unpinned side of her hair behind her ear, which he recognized as a nervous habit of hers.

He couldn't stop his next words from leaving his mouth in a quiet rush. "You look beautiful, Viv."

She smiled and continued to hold her safe distance while he took a moment to really take her in. Her curled, shining red hair was pinned on one side, long enough to reach the middle of her back. She was wearing a combination that she knew he liked, rich red lips and a green dress, his two favorite colors on her. The dress was a new one, knee-length and short-sleeved, fitted to her petite frame and complimenting what he knew laid beneath. The seamed hose on her legs made him wonder if she had somehow known she would encounter him that night.

Finally, he shook himself back to the present and said, "I should have brought flowers or something. I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's okay," she shook her head. "Really. It's fine."

He nodded then, looking around behind her and noticing some of her friends watching them. He'd met most of them, but he suddenly once again like maybe he should go. "I'll go if you want, let you get back your friends. I just wanted to see you. And say congratulations on the show."

"You don't have to go," she quickly said, and he could tell by her eyes that she meant it. "At least have drink with me?"

He didn't need any convincing. He nodded, watching another smile reach her lips, and then he felt her hand slip comfortingly and familiarly into his before leading him to the bar.

And then it was like nothing had ever changed and the last nearly two months had never even happened.

They talked, laughed, drank, and her friends gave her teasing and supportive nudges as the night went on. She gushed about how wonderful of an experience the show was and how much she had learned, and he watched with an ever-present grin on his face as she regaled him a few friends with her stories. He considered himself pretty good with people, but she was even better. She had all the talent of a promising young singer and actor and all the outgoing charm of someone born to spend her life in the center of the world's attention. And he _loved_ that about her.

They were two drinks in when he asked her to dance, and she didn't hesitate to say yes. He lost track of time then, like he always did when they danced and she was in his arms, feminine voice giggling in his ear as they moved together in the same easy and effortless way that was their trademark. This was how it always started, and just like the other times, it was impossible to care how it would ultimately end, because he'd enjoy every bit of the ride there, just like she would.

When the night had wound down, passing in a pleasant blur, and most of the crowd had gone and left, they were swaying lazily to a soft, slow song that was likely the band's last. Her head was on his chest, an easy fit due to her smaller stature, and his eyes were closed as he enjoyed the moment for what it was. It sure beat spending the night at home, trying his best to think of anything but her and failing quite skillfully.

He opened his eyes when he felt her lift her head up, eyes looking up into his as she asked, "Can you walk me home?"

"Yeah, of course," he answered quietly, though he missed her the moment she pulled away with a smile, taking off to grab her coat. He took a moment to get himself together as he followed her, knowing exactly how the night would end at this point, and he had no doubt that she did as well. He wondered how it could be so easy to fall back into this routine of theirs and yet so easy to watch it blow up in his face when it would run its course.

He helped her into her coat, paid both his tab and hers because it was simply the right thing to do even though she protested every time, then put on his own jacket and led her out to the sidewalk and the cool night air.

Her place wasn't far, a modest little apartment on a relatively safe block. She picked up shifts at the hospital working as a nursing assistant to pay the bills that her true passion couldn't always cover quite yet, and she was always busy, often tired, but always buzzing with energy just like she was now as he walked her home.

"I can't tell you how amazing it's been," she smiled, street lamps casting a soft glow on her face as she looked up at him while they walked. "And people seemed to like me. We were only supposed to go for about a month but they extended our run twice. I'm still so excited."

He smiled warmly at her and took her hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. "Told you you'd do great, didn't I?"

"Yes you did," she said teasingly. Then she paused, her eyes lingering on his for a moment before she smiled and admitted, "I just _really_ wasn't expecting to see you tonight."

"Hope I didn't interrupt anything," he replied, testing her with the question to see what her reaction would be.

She looked confused for a moment before asking, "Do you mean... _him_?" She then giggled and said, "Oh, Bucky. No. No, you didn't interrupt anything. He's already with someone."

"That doesn't always stop a guy," Bucky pointed out.

"No," she agreed, dropping her voice to a whisper before hesitantly saying, "but he's already with someone. Named Johnny."

He stared at her for a moment before reality, and surprise, dawned on him. "Oh."

She grinned at him and then said, "I wasn't gonna tell you because it's not my place to tell and the less people that know, the better. You know how people would treat him if they knew. He'd get run out of town or worse."

He nodded. "Yeah, right, right. Sorry. I'm an idiot, okay," he laughed.

"You're the farthest thing from an idiot," she told him with a smile, just as they came up on her building and she walked out in front of him. "But maybe a little jealous?"

"Maybe," he shrugged, "though I've got no right to be."

Her smile faded a little, as they lingered in front of her building indecisively. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and he didn't miss it this time either.

"Well... I can't blame you though. I heard the other day that you and that Lizzie girl went out dancing a few times this month."

He nodded. "Yeah. Just dancing, though."

"Why? She's pretty," Vivian shrugged. "Word has it she's got some money, too."

He chuckled through his nose and said, "That doesn't mean anything to me. You know that."

"Yeah," she nodded. "I know."

He wouldn't take a step forward until she explicitly invited him to. It was an unspoken rule that he put in place a long time ago. The last thing he ever wanted her to think was that he was only there for her physical company or that he'd push for anything she didn't want. Of course, she had never turned him away and they were _always_ on the same page when it came to those matters, but that wouldn't change his rule.

He held his breath when she stepped forward, pausing before reaching her soft, small hand to his cheek and pressing a gentle kiss to his other. His arm wrapped her, holding her close as she lingered after the kiss. His eyes met hers as her hand still on his face turned him towards her, and then they both closed their eyes and met one another in a kiss that he could have sworn made his very bones sigh with relief.

He tasted the gin she'd been drinking, smelled the sweetness of her hair and tightened his hold on her as her fingers slid from his cheek to his own hair, the kiss slow and soft at first until it gradually turned into more. It didn't matter how many times this happened or how used to it he should have been. It still brought a low, pleasant little flutter from within and a warmth to his blood that he just didn't feel with anyone else, regardless of how pretty or nice they were.

She pulled away first to catch her breath, and Bucky opened his eyes, watching his own fingers brush her cheek and push her hair away from it as she looked up at him.

"Will you come in for a little bit?" she asked quietly, biting her lip when he smiled at her question.

"You sure?" he asked, trying to force his smile to go away and not appear as if inside he was already there, though of course he was.

"I always am," she reminded him with a quirk of her lips, pulling away and taking his hand again as she led him upstairs.

It was a short walk up to her door, but it felt much longer than it was. He kept his hands to himself with some difficulty as she rummaged in her purse for her keys, then followed her inside silently once she got the door open.

Everything in her place it was just as he remembered it, which made sense, because it hadn't been that long since he had last been there. It had just _seemed_ that way. He closed her door and locked it as she shed her coat, dropping it on a chair as he moved to take off his own jacket. She took it from him, put it on top of her own, then without a trace of awkwardness - because this wasn't awkward, but rather quite familiar - turned and walked to her bedroom, knowing he would follow.

Her bedroom always smelled like a mixture of her perfume and fresh air, the latter being due to how she always kept her window open, even on chilly nights like these. The familiar smell was a comfort to him when he walked through the door, then quietly shut it behind him as his gaze went first to her dresser.

She watched him walk to it, his eyes on the framed picture of them that still sat there among others of her and various friends and family. The picture was from their first time around, before they had known quite what they were getting into. They were all happy smiles and - mostly - innocence, a little younger than they were now, and definitely a lot less complicated.

A few times he had seen the picture down on its face, hidden from view. But not this time.

"I've missed you," she said quietly, stealing his attention away from the picture.

He turned and looked in her eyes, finding them full of the usual conflict of emotions that came with the territory. He knew he looked just the same.

"Me too," he said, reaching out to touch her face, wanting to make her smile and take that look away. Less slowly than before, he closed the distance between them, leaned down to her height and kissed her like he had wanted to do all night, like he couldn't do outside on the street.

Her arms sliding around his neck, she kissed him back just as eagerly, reminding him briefly of the last time they'd done this. It had been just before a fight, and he had known that it was coming, so he'd done everything he could to delay it. This might have been the same thing, ultimately, but he chose not to think about it, instead pulling her tightly against him and deepening the kiss as a low whine escaped low in her throat.

Only a moment passed before she pulled away, breath already shaky as she put her hands on his shoulders to make him pause. Her eyes searched his as she asked unexpectedly, "Is this stupid?"

He answered her the only way he knew how. "It's what we do."

"I know, but why?" she asked him quietly, earnestly. "I _hate_ hurting you. I don't know if I can live with myself if I do it again, and I know I will."

"You're not gonna hurt me tonight," he told her sincerely. "And I'm not gonna hurt you."

Not looking beyond the present into the future was the only way he knew how to do this, because the same problems that existed before would still be there this time around, waiting like traps to spring up and throw them off of their feet again. The key was simply not caring and ignoring this, and that wasn't so hard to do when he loved her more than he'd ever loved any woman before her.

Still, she slipped out of his arms and then walked away, making him panic slightly until he realized that she was only going to close her window. He spared their photo one last glance before following her, stopping his steps just behind her as she looked out into the city streets.

"You get orders yet?" she asked, watching a car zoom by below.

He shook his head, focusing his eyes on her hair as his left hand gently pushed it aside, over her left shoulder. She shivered a little at the innocent touch. "Not yet."

"Any idea when? News is getting pretty bad."

"Probably soon," he admitted, wishing he didn't have to. She had never once discouraged him or spoken ill of his decision to enlist in the Army following the attack on Pearl Harbor, but that didn't mean he couldn't tell that she lived in constant fear of what would happen once he actually shipped out.

Rather than stand there and speak of such dark, heavy things as war and death, he leaned down and kissed the right side of her neck while his hands ran slowly down her shoulders. He heard her sharp intake of breath as much as he felt it, taking it as encouragement and kissing her neck more intently, more passionately, moving his hands down to her side and then her waist as her hand moved up to hold his head against her.

"I had a date," she suddenly said, making him pause in his moments. "I... he was nice. He took me to dinner uptown, took me dancing. Handsome, too. My friends were jealous. Had his own car..."

He couldn't deny the stab of jealousy he suddenly felt, and he was still confused as to why she was bringing this up _now_.

"... But he was just... wrong."

"Why?" he asked, now looking her in the eye, as she had turned her head to look at him.

"He just.. wasn't you," she admitted quietly, her eyes dropping to his lips for all of the one or two seconds before they were utterly devouring hers.

She whimpered against his lips at the sudden, deep, passionate kiss, and suddenly the tone of the entire evening had changed, going from wistfully reconnecting to now desperately _needing_ one another and showing it in their actions. It was incredibly easy in moments like those to wonder what could ever get in their way, what could ever overcome what they had between them to constantly split them apart.

When he broke away and gave her a chance to breathe, he held her close against him with his hand on her stomach as his other moved back to one of her shoulders, pulling down the sleeve of her dress so he could rain kisses down her neck to the top of her bare shoulder. Then he let go of the sleeve to slowly unzip the back of her dress, both hands sliding it down and to the floor just before she turned around in his arms and faced him. His eyes moved down to her body, raking over her lingerie as she placed her hands on his shoulders and walked him backwards towards the bed.

She pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed, and his hands went to her hips as she stood between his legs and watched him continue to stare.

His fingertips ran over the garter she wore, then down the straps and the stockings on her legs before looking up and groaning, "It's like you _knew_ I'd come find you tonight."

"I hoped," she admitted, her fingers sliding into his hair as he leaned forward and pressed hot, open mouthed kisses to her stomach. She closed her eyes. "I didn't think you would."

He looked up again, hands going down to her slender thighs and pulling her down so that she straddled his lap. "You know I can't stay away for long."

She kissed him in response, long and deeply, pulling at his shirt and breaking away only to tear it from his shoulders as he looked at her with that familiar, dark heat in his eyes.

Her next question made that darkness turn softer and lighter. "Do you still love me?"

"I'll always love you," he told her quietly, sincerely, eyes locked with hers. "I promise you that."

Relief in her eyes, she replied, "I love you, too." Then she kissed him again, and he groaned into their kiss before picking her up and turning them over, laying her down in the bed and crawling on top of her, all while his lips never broke from hers

The night lasted long into the early morning hours, their reunions always sweet and this one particularly satisfying. He knew her like the back of his hand, and she knew everything about him that the other girls usually never had the chance to learn. She could make him moan with the scratch of her nails in the right place, take control of him if she wanted by climbing atop him and tugging his hair _just_ right, and she knew his weakness for her mouth all too well. They worked together so well physically that it made the ways which they _didn't_ work all the more painful and confusing.

When it was over, at least for that night, and sleep wasn't far from claiming them, Bucky savored the feeling of the woman he loved lying happily in his arms, where a very large part of him fully believed she belonged. For a night, everything was right, even if they both knew deep down that it really was not.

But those were thoughts and worries for another day. Bucky felt Vivian shift in his arms and then roll away from him just long enough to reach to her bedside table, grab a cigarette and a pack of matches, and light up the vice that they occasionally shared together.

"Bad girl," he grinned, watching her settle back into his arms and take a short, delicate puff of the thing.

"I know," she smiled back, blowing out the smoke and then carefully reaching up to place the cigarette between his own lips. She watched him take a much longer draw from it than she had, then took it back for herself as she said, "All the doctors at the hospital do it. Can't be that bad if they say it's okay, right?"

He shrugged, watching her continue to lazily smoke the cigarette. "Don't know. Can't say I always go for what's good for me anyway."

She stared at him and paused the cigarette halfway to her mouth before smiling. "Are you referring to _me?"_

Hegrinned and shook his head. "No, 'course not. You're _very_ good for me. You just proved that." He kissed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. "A lot."

She rolled her eyes but chuckled at the answer anyway, handing him the cigarette and letting him finish it as she laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes. "I'm glad I saw you tonight."

"I'm glad Steve kicked my ass into going after you."

She laughed. "I should have known. I've missed him too."

"Yeah... we've both missed you," Bucky replied, fingers running through her hair. "We'll make it work this time."

Vivian was silent for a moment following that falsely confident statement. "I hope so."

"We will," he assured her, putting out the cigarette on her table and then using his fingers to draw her up by her chin so that he could look in her eyes. "I love you. You love me. That's all that matters, right?"

She smiled, but it was a bit of a sad smile, and he could tell that she didn't believe it anymore than he did. "Right."

He kissed her then, softly and sweetly, the touch lingering for one long, quiet moment before she settled back down and closed her eyes. He let out a long, heavy breath and stared at the ceiling rather than try to follow her into sleep quite yet.

Steve's words echoed in his mind, his words about doubts and permanent things, and how they had no place together. Bucky was pretty sure that he was right, but how could one side of him be perpetually one step away from going to his apartment, grabbing his grandmother's opal and diamond ring from a box in his closest, and using it to ask this woman to be his wife, while the other side of him screamed not to do it? Which side should he listen to? Was he just scared of his own military status, unwilling to marry a woman he loved when he could very well die in the war that he knew he'd be sent off to in the very near future? Was it just that, or was it his ever-present doubt that while he did love Vivian and even loved her more than he'd ever loved another, she still wasn't the one meant to wear that ring?

Her breathing was even against his chest, a sign that she was already fast asleep, but he didn't think he would follow her into slumber anytime soon. There was too much to think about, not the least of which was his own mortality and what he knew he would face soon. A part of him wanted the comfort of knowing that a good woman he loved, would be here waiting for him at home while he helped fight for his country, there to welcome him home when he came back. Another part of him felt like that would be an incredibly selfish thing to do, and that Vivian deserved better than anything he could ever give her, especially if he never _did_ come back.

Whatever happened, he just hoped that she ended up happy one day and got to have her name in big shining lights like a beautiful woman of her talent deserved. He hoped that she got everything she ever dreamed of and more, and _God_ , he hoped that he was there to see it.

But if he wasn't, whether because of the war or because they truly couldn't stand the test of time, then simply knowing that she was happy and that she made it would be enough for him. No matter what, he'd keep her and her picture close to his heart in the coming months, a constant reminder of what and _who_ he was putting his life in danger for.

It took him some time that night, but he finally fell asleep. His last thoughts were of how he meant what he'd said to her, about always loving her, and how he knew that no matter what awaited in the future, he would _never_ forget her. Even if they had always been meant to fall.


End file.
